Tax Me If You Can

The things rich people do to avoid paying up.

New York tax laws don’t apply to people who are deemed to be nonresidents, even if they own a residence here and work here.Credit Illustration by Christoph Niemann

A prerogative of being a billionaire is the freedom to go anywhere, anytime. For decades, Julian H. Robertson, Jr., who founded Tiger Capital Management, in 1980, and turned an eight-million-dollar investment into a twenty-three-billion-dollar company, has had a car and driver at his disposal. Robertson returned capital to investors in 2000 but still runs Tiger as a private firm, and he remains the dean of American hedge-fund managers. He was recently named chairman of the private-equity firm Forstmann Little & Company, after the death of his close friend Theodore J. Forstmann. Forbes estimates Robertson’s net worth at $2.4 billion. And, in contrast to disgraced managers like Bernard Madoff or Samuel Israel, Robertson has a reputation for honesty. He “cared about integrity and reputation,” Katherine Burton wrote in her 2007 book, “Hedge Hunters.” “Robertson focused on the ethics of corporate managers, their intelligence, and their integrity, both personal and in regard to their dedication to improving shareholder value.”

During a typical workweek, Robertson’s driver would transport him from his apartment on Central Park South to a ten-acre estate in Locust Valley, New York, to a summer rental in Southampton, to several Long Island golf clubs, and to his Park Avenue headquarters. For travel to his vacation retreat in Sun Valley, Idaho, to his estate in New Zealand, to golf outings in Ireland, and to other far-flung destinations, Robertson used a private plane that landed at and took off from Farmingdale, Long Island; Teterboro, New Jersey; and LaGuardia Airport. He could go where he liked, when he liked, but there was a catch.

Since New York City tax laws don’t apply to people who are deemed to be nonresidents, even if they own a residence in the city and work there, Robertson was allowed to spend no more than half a year—a hundred and eighty-three days—in New York City. This exile was self-imposed. If he had paid New York City tax, which in the top bracket reaches a rate of 3.6 per cent of taxable income, he could have spent as much time in the city as he wished. In 1998 and 1999, when his wife, Josephine, was being treated for cancer in New York City, that is what he did.

But in 2000 Robertson was determined to stay outside the city for at least a hundred and eighty-two days, and thereby avoid New York City income tax. As a New York State Division of Tax Appeals tribunal subsequently put it, his focus intensified “as the year progressed and the number of remaining available days diminished.”

This was nearly a full-time job. One of Robertson’s assistants, Julie Depperschmidt, scheduled his appointments and maintained a contemporaneous computerized record of his whereabouts, carefully distinguishing between “NYC days” and “non NYC days.” Different colored boxes indicated confirmed and anticipated non-New York City days. Whenever the combined number fell below a hundred and eighty-three, she advised him to add more non-New York City days to his schedule. She said that she reminded him “ad nauseam” about what he needed to do to reach a hundred and eighty-two non-New York City days.

Friday nights were particularly risky, since Robertson or his wife often had social events scheduled in the city. In order to “earn a tax day,” as he put it, he usually left town on Friday before midnight, even if his wife stayed at the apartment. Robertson’s driver had to be on alert: as long as they crossed the Queens border en route to Locust Valley by midnight, Robertson didn’t have to “waste” a Saturday as a New York day. Even one minute of a day spent in the city counts as a day of residence. (Exceptions are made for people who are in transit from one destination outside the city to another—from Newark airport to Long Island, for example, or to LaGuardia for a flight.) Robertson said he never missed the midnight deadline, although when he couldn’t get his driver or a limousine service in time he occasionally had to hail a cab. On one occasion, Robertson came back from a trip and found himself crossing into Manhattan at 11:45 P.M. That mistake cost him a full New York City day, which he could have avoided by whiling away fifteen minutes at the airport.

According to Depperschmidt’s meticulous calculations, by the end of the calendar year 2000 Robertson had recorded a hundred and eighty-three New York City days, the exact number allowed by statute, and a number all but guaranteed to raise red flags, because it came so close to the line. Most people declaring nonresident status on their tax returns make sure to fall at least a week or so short, in order to minimize the chance of an audit. The Robertsons filed a New York State tax return claiming they were nonresidents of New York City that year, and the Division of Taxation launched what turned into a ten-year quest to collect New York City taxes.

In September of 2006, five years after the return was filed, the Division of Taxation announced its initial findings: Robertson had been outside the city on a hundred and seventy-nine days, meaning that there were just four days in dispute. Robertson appealed, and the case wound its way through the courts for four years. If he failed to demonstrate by “clear and convincing evidence” that he hadn’t been in the city on even one of the disputed days, he would be deemed a resident and would owe New York City income tax for the year 2000. In his case, the sum amounted to $26,702,341, plus interest, which, given the New York City tax rate, suggests that Robertson had taxable income that year of seven hundred and thirty-two million dollars.

Tax rates on the rich have become a highly charged political issue. Warren Buffett helped launch a national debate last year when he disclosed, in a Times Op-Ed piece, that staff members working in his office paid a higher federal-tax rate than he did. (One of them was his secretary Debbie Bosanek.) He revealed that, on a taxable income of $39.8 million, he paid tax at a rate of 17.4 per cent. (Since taxable income is what’s left after deductions, his percentage of adjusted gross income was no doubt even lower.) Mitt Romney, after resisting making his tax returns public, revealed that he paid 13.9 per cent of his 2010 adjusted gross income of $21.6 million in federal tax. Some of the wealthiest people in the country pay even less.

The Internal Revenue Service discloses detailed statistics for the four hundred highest-earning taxpayers in the country. In 2008, the most recent year available, those taxpayers had an average adjusted gross income of two hundred and seventy million dollars each. Thirty of them paid less than ten per cent in federal taxes, and a hundred and one paid between ten and fifteen per cent. On average, the group paid 18.1 per cent—a lower rate than taxpayers who earn between two hundred thousand and five hundred thousand dollars.

President Obama has seized on that fact, making tax fairness a central issue in his reëlection bid. The President has called for comprehensive tax reform and for specific proposals for a “Buffett Rule,” which would raise tax rates on taxpayers earning more than a million dollars a year and end favorable tax treatment for dividend income and so-called “carried interest” earned by hedge-fund and private-equity managers.

Republicans don’t defend the current tax code, either. Even a flat tax, whereby taxpayers at all income levels pay the same rate—a concept embraced in varying degrees by some candidates and advanced by the conservative Heritage Foundation—would likely raise rates on the ultra-wealthy. Romney has called for a twenty-per-cent across-the-board tax cut, while limiting some deductions. His plan was attacked by Rick Santorum as a disguised attempt to soak the rich. And most Republicans have insisted that any reform be revenue neutral and not a tax increase.

None of the proposals address the fact that rich people aren’t taxed on certain income, either because it is exempt, as with interest on municipal bonds, or because they claim to be living outside the jurisdiction that is levying the tax. Relatively scant media attention has been paid to residency requirements, even though enormous revenue is at stake, as the Robertson case demonstrates. Tax audits and hearings are ordinarily confidential, but several published opinions, including the one eventually issued in Robertson’s case, and related appeals reveal how some New Yorkers take advantage of the residency requirement.

Many states have such requirements. Relatively few cities levy personal income taxes, but the largest ones that do, besides New York City, are Baltimore, Cleveland, Denver, Detroit, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Portland, San Francisco, and St. Louis. The problem is especially acute for cities like New York, which are geographically close to nearby lower-tax jurisdictions.

People who want to avoid both New York State and New York City income taxes (not to mention additional levies on the self-employed, such as the New York City unincorporated-business tax) are permitted to own a residence and work in the city and the state but must maintain a primary residence outside the state—hence the popularity of communities like Greenwich and New Canaan, Connecticut, or Summit, New Jersey.

The United States imposes federal-tax liability on the worldwide income of any foreign citizen who owns or has a permanent residence in the United States and is in the country for more than a hundred and eighty-two days (one day less than is allowed by New York). This may explain the sale, in December of last year, of the penthouse apartment of the former Citigroup chairman Sanford Weill, at 15 Central Park West, for a record eighty-eight million dollars, to Ekaterina Rybolovleva, a twenty-two-year-old university student, rather than to her father, the Russian billionaire Dmitry Rybolovlev. For similar reasons, many purchases are in the names of trusts or corporations. But tax liability hasn’t stopped other Russians from buying property in the United States. In the past three years, five Russians paid more than ten million dollars each for houses in Aspen, and one paid $25.5 million for a place near Miami Beach, according to Bloomberg News. The richest man in the world, the Mexican billionaire Carlos Slim, paid forty-four million dollars for a Manhattan town house. These buyers may have little cause for concern: the I.R.S. spends few resources tracking their whereabouts, and tax experts say that there has never been a reported case in which the I.R.S. alleged that a foreign property owner overstayed the limit.

The residency loophole provides an obvious financial motive to lie. One prominent tax lawyer told me that “cheating is rampant.” According to New York State tax authorities, nonresidents pay about $4.7 billion a year in state taxes. The state audits approximately four thousand of these returns, and brings in about two hundred million dollars a year in delinquencies from people wrongly or fraudulently claiming nonresident status. New York nonresident tax returns ask taxpayers to check a box if they maintain a permanent residence in New York State or City. “Of course, we have no way of knowing how many people don’t check the box who should,” Robert Plattner, the deputy commissioner for tax policy, told me.

Most people who pay New York City income tax neither own nor can afford second or third homes that enable them to choose a lower tax residency while still enjoying all the benefits of living, working, doing business, earning income, and owning property in New York. Even if they did have the means, they’d be hard pressed to meet the hundred-and-eighty-three-day maximum, since most have jobs in the city that require them to be there more than half the year.

This limits the benefits of the policy to those with the flexibility or the power to dictate their working conditions—people like the prominent criminal-defense lawyer Thomas Puccio, perhaps best known for his successful defense of the socialite Claus von Bülow, who was charged with murdering his comatose wife, Martha (Sunny) von Bülow, in 1982. Puccio and his wife had a co-op apartment at 10 East Eighty-first Street. For 2003, he claimed that their primary residence was in Weston, Connecticut, and that he had spent only a hundred and fifteen days in New York State and City, thus qualifying as a nonresident. The Tax Division launched an audit and concluded that Puccio had demonstrated he was outside New York for eighty days. Puccio conceded that he had been in New York for a hundred and eleven days, leaving a hundred and seventy-four days in dispute.

Unlike Robertson, Puccio made little systematic effort to document his whereabouts. He relied largely on credit-card statements, travel records, docket entries for cases in which he appeared, and FedEx and E-ZPass toll charges. Puccio said that he was in Connecticut from January 13th to January 16th—four non-New York days. On January 13th, a Monday, his credit-card statement reflected a charge at a Westport, Connecticut, restaurant. But two days later the statement showed a charge of $201.19 at a New York City restaurant. Puccio testified that the restaurant kept his card on file and charged a quarterly minimum whether or not he was present.

Puccio conceded that he was in New York City on January 28th, 30th, and 31st. But he claimed that he was in Connecticut on Wednesday, January 29th. He testified that he never used cash, and, since there were no New York City charges, he must have been in Connecticut—even though there were no Connecticut charges, either.

The pattern continued throughout the year. If a charge appeared at a Connecticut establishment, it meant that Puccio was in Connecticut. If it was in New York, someone else had used his account—perhaps his housekeeper or his assistant. On February 18th, there were credit-card charges for a restaurant in New York City and a delivery fee from Bloomingdale’s. Puccio said that he made “an assumption” that his wife had ordered something over the phone from the department store and that the restaurant often delivered food to his apartment for cleaning personnel or, sometimes, for his assistant.

Puccio often relied on court-docket entries as evidence that he was away from the city representing defendants. He stated that on January 16th he was in Stamford for a case. The court docket indicated that a memorandum of decision was filed that day, but there was no indication of any appearances by counsel. That same day, there was a charge from a New York City restaurant to Puccio’s credit card.

Puccio said that he spent July 27th through July 31st in Philadelphia, where he represented a defendant at trial in federal court. The docket indicated that he was one of two attorneys representing the defendant, and that there were trial proceedings from July 28th through the 31st. However, there was no indication that Puccio was present. There was a credit-card charge at a New York City restaurant on July 30th.

Puccio knew that his testimony was under oath and was subject to penalties of perjury. Much of his testimony was vague: he had “no reason to believe” he was in New York on a particular day; he “assumed” he wasn’t in New York. But the court appearances would seem to lend themselves to definitive proof. Presumably, the transcript of the proceedings in federal court in Philadelphia would establish whether Puccio was present, as would the testimony of his co-counsel. So would billing records in the various cases. But Puccio produced no such evidence. In tax-residency cases, the burden is on the taxpayer to establish his whereabouts, so the Tax Division didn’t check the transcripts or produce them as evidence. Nor did the Tax Division or Puccio identify the parties to the case, so it’s impossible to independently check who was present in the courtroom. (Puccio did not respond to messages left at his law office.)

Similarly, when attributing charges to his former law partner or to his law assistant, Puccio could have offered their corroborating testimony or affidavits. “Under the circumstances, it is reasonable to take the strongest possible negative inference from [Puccio’s] failure to provide supporting evidence,” the administrative law judge, Thomas C. Sacca, admonished, in effect dismissing much of Puccio’s testimony as unreliable, if not false. Last year, Judge Sacca, after examining the evidence for all hundred and seventy-four disputed days, ruled that Puccio had been in New York on a hundred and nine of those days, for a total of two hundred and twenty days for the calendar year 2003—far exceeding the hundred-and-eighty-three-day maximum. Puccio therefore owed $271,382 in New York State and City personal income tax, plus interest and penalties.

Another notable case involved Martha Stewart. Long before she was convicted, in 2004, of obstructing justice and making false statements in an insider-trading investigation, Stewart claimed to be a nonresident New York taxpayer who lived on Turkey Hill Road South, in Westport, Connecticut, the site of many photo spreads in Martha Stewart Living. Although she conceded that she owned a large, shingled house and a guest cottage on Lily Pond Lane, in East Hampton, New York, and an apartment in Manhattan, she claimed that neither was a “permanent place of abode” as defined by the tax law, because both were undergoing extensive renovations and were uninhabitable during the years in question, 1991 and 1992.

For someone whose comings and goings were chronicled exhaustively, it’s surprising that evidence of her whereabouts on any given day proved so elusive. Like Puccio, Stewart relied on credit-card charges, travel documents, and limousine receipts to prove her presence outside New York. But similar charges and documents generated in New York were inconclusive, she argued, because others used her car and driver, and her card was on file at many New York establishments. Daily itineraries indicating her presence in New York were also unreliable, because she often deviated from the written schedule. She testified that she rarely came to New York, because most of her friends lived in Greenwich, and that she never spent more than a day or two in East Hampton, and generally worked from her home in Westport.

Stewart also testified “emphatically,” according to Judge Sacca, who presided at Stewart’s hearing, that she hadn’t appeared as a paid guest on the “Today” show, which is broadcast from NBC’s Rockefeller Center studios, during the relevant year. But issues of Martha Stewart Living touted her frequent “Today” appearances. When confronted with the evidence, Stewart said that some episodes, such as the Thanksgiving and Christmas segments, were taped on location, at her home in Connecticut. She introduced no supporting evidence to that effect.

It should have been easy to resolve how often Stewart appeared in the “Today” show studio in a given year by consulting NBC’s archives. Instead, her lawyers subsequently recanted her testimony about the “Today” show and dropped the claim that she hadn’t been in the New York studio. Judge Sacca cited this as “another example of the lack of credible testimony” in her case.

Stewart’s hearing wasn’t until October, 1998, seven years after the events, and Judge Sacca pointed to the “difficulty inherent in relying solely upon an individual’s memory,” suggesting that she may have been mistaken or had forgotten rather than that she was lying about her whereabouts.

Then there was the New York State tax issue of whether Stewart maintained a “permanent place of abode” in the state for “substantially all” of a given tax year. The auditor agreed that her Manhattan apartment was undergoing renovation throughout 1992. Stewart claimed that the East Hampton house was also being renovated and was uninhabitable in 1992, and submitted invoices dating from 1990 and 1991 indicating that she spent $1.3 million on the property. She testified that renovations continued throughout 1992, and that the kitchen wasn’t finished.

But the Town of East Hampton issued a certificate of occupancy in 1991, and in a questionnaire that she signed before a notary Stewart said she moved into the house during the summer of 1991. Jacket copy for books she published in 1991 and 1992 stated that “Mrs. Stewart lives in Connecticut and New York, and is presently creating a new garden on Long Island”; and “Mrs. Stewart lives in Connecticut in a Federal farmhouse and on Long Island in a shingled Queen Anne-style house she has recently restored and renovated.” In the November/December, 1991, issue of her magazine, Stewart referred to “my new home by the seashore, a shingled rambler with numerous mantels, polished fir floors, and white walls and woodwork.” Accompanying photographs suggested that the “property was habitable and furnished, and . . . in use as a residence,” according to Judge Sacca. (For another photo shoot, Stewart had claimed that furniture was brought in temporarily.) Another issue featured a six-page photo spread and article on the adjacent cottage, indicating that her daughter, Alexis, lived there. Judge Sacca concluded that the cottage appeared to be “well furnished and ‘lived-in,’ ” notwithstanding Stewart’s testimony that it was uninhabitable and her daughter had to rent an apartment while in East Hampton.

Beginning in July, 1991, Stewart subscribed to cable TV at the Lily Pond Lane address. Asked about this, she said that workmen needed to have cable installed in order to test the home’s stereo and audiovisual system. Judge Sacca wondered why it was necessary to subscribe to “Family Plus Cable, HBO, Showtime, Disney, MSG and Sports Channel” simply to test the audiovisual system. He ruled that Stewart “failed to establish by clear and convincing evidence that she did not maintain a permanent place of abode in New York State for substantially all of 1992,” and affirmed a tax deficiency of $221,677.82, plus penalties and interest. (A publicist said that Stewart wouldn’t comment on the tax cases or her testimony.)

Neither Puccio nor Stewart was accused of making any false statements or was referred to any other agency for further investigation. According to New York tax authorities, people are rarely charged with perjury or making false statements in a residency audit. “Our job is to collect revenue and administer the tax laws,” Dan Smirlock, a former New York deputy tax commissioner, said. “We do a lot of criminal referrals for tax evasion to district attorneys. But for perjury the proof is so difficult. It doesn’t seem to be a high priority.”

Like the residency requirement, many provisions in the existing tax laws provide breaks that only the very wealthy can take advantage of. Although the top four hundred taxpayers account for only a sliver of all taxpayers, I.R.S. data show that they collect almost five per cent of total dividend income reported by all taxpayers. They reap an even bigger percentage of total capital gains—thirteen per cent, according to the I.R.S. Powerful interests support the status quo, and have lobbied heavily to preserve such breaks, arguing that, even if they do benefit the wealthy, they also promote investment and help support the broad economy.

But the argument for residency exemptions has rested almost entirely on appeals to fairness: that nonresidents shouldn’t have to pay for services that they aren’t physically present to take advantage of. That proposition is hardly self-evident. “We provide the environment for you to make money,” Smirlock told me. “We protect your earnings. We keep thieves off the street. We collect your garbage. You get your electricity.” He might also have added that those services enhance the value of the real estate that nonresidents own and profit from, even if they’re not spending much time in New York.

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All of which raises the question: Why exempt anyone who works and earns money in New York City, even if he’s physically present fewer than a hundred and eighty-three days? Why not tax people who make their income at Manhattan-based hedge funds, no matter how many days they spend in the city? Such a policy would eliminate the need for compulsive day-counting, not to mention the bureaucracy and costs necessary to document it, as well as the incentive for cheating. Fred Feingold, whose Manhattan law firm, Feingold & Alpert, specializes in complex tax matters and has represented Julian Robertson, among others, said, “It takes a significant amount of time for an assistant to keep the records.”

There once was such a law. People who worked in New York City were subject to New York City tax on what they earned in the city no matter how many days they spent there. New York City taxes are set by the state Legislature, and suburban lawmakers, many of whose constituents commute and are major campaign donors, lobbied to repeal the tax for nonresidents and succeeded in 1999, over the vehement protests of city officials. Periodic efforts to restore the tax have failed. Powerful New York City real-estate interests have opposed any changes, arguing that it would hurt demand for apartments and second homes in the city. And wealthy bankers and hedge-fund managers have threatened to move their offices out of New York. None of these arguments have any bearing on the fairness of the existing tax policy.

Although Feingold has represented scores of clients accused of misstating their residency status, he is ambivalent about the provision. The existing law encourages people to own real estate in New York and to spend time and money there. “We don’t want to chase people away,” he said. On the other hand, “Let’s face it, it’s only the rich who can afford New York City pieds-à-terre.”

In Julian Robertson’s case, with nearly twenty-seven million dollars in tax revenue at stake, Robertson had to show that he was outside New York City for all of the four disputed days in 2000: April 15th, July 23rd, July 31st, and November 16th. April 15th looked promising to the Tax Division. But Robertson, who valued his reputation for probity, was determined to prevail. On Thursday, April 13th, Josephine Robertson had flown back to New York City after visiting her mother in San Antonio. She met Robertson and they spent the evening together. She spent Friday night there, and joined Robertson for a round of golf at Deepdale Golf Club, on Long Island, on Saturday. Robertson said he’d left the city on Friday and spent the night in Locust Valley before meeting his wife at the club the next day, but he had no proof. The Tax Division argued that it was implausible that Robertson would have left his wife alone in the city on a Friday night simply to avoid triggering a New York City tax day.

Robertson testified that he had indeed left on Friday. Josephine added that she was “happy” to have him “out of her hair” while she packed for an extended trip to Australia. And Robertson said he always left New York City on Friday if he planned to spend the weekend in Locust Valley. Had he not done so on April 14th, it would have been the only such instance during the year.

On July 23rd, Robertson and a group that included his sons Spencer and Alex and his friend Payson Coleman returned from a golf outing in Ireland, landing at 9:15 P.M. at LaGuardia Airport. The next morning, Robertson was at work in Manhattan, and the Tax Division argued it was implausible that Robertson would have gone from LaGuardia to Locust Valley and then back to Manhattan early the next morning, rather than simply joining his wife at the Manhattan apartment. But Coleman testified that he shared a ride from the airport to Locust Valley with Robertson, and a phone call to Robertson’s car at 6:59 A.M. the next day suggests that he was en route to Manhattan.

On July 31st, Robertson’s calendar indicated an “investment staff meeting” at Tiger Management headquarters, in Manhattan. But it was the third day (and first weekday) of Robertson’s annual summer stay in Southampton. Phone records showed several lengthy calls between Robertson’s summer house and the Manhattan office, and he testified that he had communicated with the office by phone.

On November 16th, a Thursday, Robertson was being honored by the University of Virginia at the dedication of the Julian Robertson Capital Markets trading room, on the campus in Charlottesville. He and Josephine and several friends flew in his plane from LaGuardia, leaving at 2:20 P.M. The Tax Division contended that Robertson must have spent the previous night, November 15th, at his Manhattan apartment with his wife. But he testified that he’d left New York City and spent the night in Locust Valley, in order to avoid adding a tax day. He had no proof of his whereabouts. Two of his companions—both were employees of Tiger Management who considered Robertson a mentor—buttressed his testimony by recalling that Mrs. Robertson arrived at the airport first, in a hired car, and that Robertson followed, in a separate car, suggesting that they had embarked from different locations.

The precise burden of proof in such cases, usually referred to as “clear and convincing” evidence, remains notoriously inexact. But, in sharp contrast to the situations in the Puccio and the Stewart cases, Robertson’s reputation for integrity and the care with which he reported his locations weighed considerably. The judges noted that on at least two occasions—once when Robertson crossed into Manhattan at 11:45 P.M., and once when he left Southampton for a previously unscheduled medical visit in New York City and returned the same day—he instructed Julie Depperschmidt to record the days as New York City days, even though there was no way that she would have known that he was in the city, and little likelihood that the tax authorities would have, either. “At a minimum these circumstances, confirmed by Depperschmidt in testimony, speak to the integrity and regularity of the process by which petitioner sought to track and account for his days within and without New York City,” the tribunal noted.

In a divided opinion, issued in September, 2010, the tribunal reversed the finding of a tax deficiency and ruled for Robertson on all four days. “It is, of course, possible” that Robertson “was physically present in New York City on any (or all) of the four disputed days,” the administrative law judge had said in his earlier opinion. Nonetheless, the majority concluded that the “most likely actual fact” was that Robertson was not present, a finding that met the standard for clear and convincing evidence. Under New York law, the Tax Division can’t appeal a tribunal decision in favor of the taxpayer.

Robertson’s lawyer, Fred Feingold, said that his client fought the case largely as a matter of principle: “He’s a man of great integrity, and some of the questioning basically called him a liar. He was angry.” (Robertson declined to comment.)

Also working in Robertson’s favor may have been his willingness to pay New York City taxes during the two years he stayed by his wife’s side during her cancer treatments. Based on his liability for the year 2000, that act of loyalty cost him some twenty-seven million dollars in additional tax liability for each year. Josephine Robertson lost her battle with cancer in 2010. The month before she died, she and her husband gave twenty-seven million dollars to the New York Stem Cell Foundation, for cancer research. ♦